


A Music Box Christmas

by Dreamin



Category: Knives Out (2019)
Genre: Christmas, F/M, Older Man/Younger Woman
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-21
Updated: 2019-12-21
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:44:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21880111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dreamin/pseuds/Dreamin
Summary: Benoit's Christmas Eve starts out lonely but doesn't stay that way.
Relationships: Benoit Blanc/Marta Cabrera
Comments: 12
Kudos: 135





	A Music Box Christmas

**Author's Note:**

  * For [afteriwake](https://archiveofourown.org/users/afteriwake/gifts).

> Set a month after the events of the movie.

“What are you doing for Christmas, Benoit?” Marta asked, her warm voice a much-needed balm on a chilly night.

It was a week before Christmas, New York was in the middle of an Arctic cold snap, and Benoit was missing the woman who had quickly become his best friend. Their near-daily phone calls were like a lifeline to him.

“Do you want the answer I’ll give my mother or the actual truth?” he asked, smiling a bit.

“Both, if you please.” Her smile was audible.

Benoit chuckled as he held his phone with one hand and used the other to put another log on the fire. “I’m tellin’ my dear old mother that I will be goin’ to Midnight Mass like a good Catholic boy then goin’ straight to bed.”

“And the truth?”

He shrugged. “I’ll probably drink half a bottle of bourbon while I stare at the flames and contemplate my lonely existence until I fall asleep in the chair. It’s what I did last year.”

“You don’t have to be lonely. You could go home for Christmas.”

“You mean my mother’s house? That hasn’t been home for me in a long time.”

“Then where is home?” she asked gently.

_Wherever you are._ The thought and accompanying emotion were immediate but he also knew he couldn’t tell her. “Here, I suppose. But enough about me. What are you doing for Christmas?”

Marta chuckled. “Unlike you, I’m actually going to Midnight Mass with my family then I’ll spend Christmas Day with them.” She paused. “If you want, you can come up and spend it with us.”

“That’s very kind of you, Marta,” he said, unable to keep a smile off his face, “but I wouldn’t want to intrude. Christmas is a time for families, you and I aren’t a family.” _Though I wish that weren’t the case._

“What about friends?”

“What about them?” he asked evasively.

“Benoit, Christmas is a time for friends too. I would love to have my friend with me for Christmas.”

“I wouldn’t want to impose.”

“It’s not an imp-”

“Goodnight, Marta,” he said, cutting her off.

She sighed. “Goodnight, Benoit.”

* * *

Christmas Eve found Benoit doing just as he’d said. A fire was roaring in the fireplace, he had a glass of bourbon in his hand and the rest of the bottle on the end table beside him, and Christmas music playing softly as a concession to the holiday.

Just as “I’ll Be Home For Christmas” started, there was a knock on his door.

_Who could that be?_ he wondered as he walked to the door. _Probably Mrs. Johnson, wantin’ to share some Christmas cookies._

But instead of an old lady with snickerdoodles, it was Marta, bundled up against the cold and carrying an overnight bag. She grinned at him. “Are you going to stare at me all night or are you going to let me in?”

That’s when he realized he was staring. “Sorry,” he said, standing aside. “How did you get into the buildin’?”

“One of your neighbors was on her way out,” Marta said as she stepped into the foyer. “A nice old lady. I told her I was here to see you and she said I’m perfect for you. She even winked at me.”

Benoit chuckled. _Mrs. Johnson’s right, of course._ “Sorry ‘bout that, Mrs. Johnson’s been tryin’ to set me up with every single woman she meets.” He helped her off with her coat then eyed her bag. “I take it you’re spendin’ Christmas with me.”

“If that’s alright. No one should be alone at Christmas.”

He took the bag and headed for his bedroom. “You sound like one of those Hallmark movies my mother likes.”

Marta followed him, one eyebrow raised. “A bit presumptuous, aren’t we?”

“I converted the guest room to an office since I rarely, no, never have guests. The only bed is in here.” He walked into the bedroom and set the bag on the floor beside the bed.

“And where will you be?”

_Not far._ He struck that thought from his mind. “The couch. It won’t be the first time.”

“I’m the uninvited guest, I should be on the couch.”

“Uninvited but not unwelcome. It’s fine, Marta.”

She hesitated for a moment then nodded. “Have you had dinner?”

“Does booze count?”

Marta rolled her eyes. “I’ll make us something, just lead me to the kitchen.”

Benoit smiled to himself as he led her down the hall and into the kitchen. He sat down at the island and watched as Marta got to work. At one point, he caught himself staring at her butt as she cooked steaks on the stove and chastised himself for being a randy old fool.

After dinner, he invited her to join him for a drink. He poured them each a glass of wine then they sat down in front of the fireplace.

Marta took a sip of her wine then smiled a bit. “How old were you when you stopped believing in Santa Claus?”

Benoit chuckled. “Five, one of the older children in the neighborhood told me the truth. You?”

“I made it all the way to ten then one of Alice’s friends told me.”

“Children can be so cruel,” he said, smiling a bit.

She nodded. “But I still love the idea of Santa, of giving presents with a lot of thought behind them. Which reminds me…” She set her wineglass on the hearth then got up and left the room, coming back a few minutes later with a wrapped present, which she gave to him before sitting down again.

“You didn’t have to,” he said, smiling, as he unwrapped it.

“I did, actually,” she said, grinning. “You’ll see what I mean.”

When all the paper was off and the cardboard box was opened, Benoit could see that her gift was a red coffee cup. Once he freed it from the box, he saw that it had “O Holey Night” with a donut as the O. He chuckled. “I do have a particular fondness for donuts.”

“And donut analogies,” she said, smirking.

“I love it. Thank you, darlin’.” He held his breath as he realized he had never called her that before. At least, not outside his own head.

She blushed prettily. “You’re welcome.”

“I’ll be sure to use it in the mornin’.” He hesitated for a moment then said, “I have a gift for you.” He got up then went to his bedroom and came back with the small gift he’d had professionally wrapped. “I didn’t get a chance to send this in the mail and now I’m glad for it.” He sat down again then handed it to her.

He held his breath as she carefully took off the paper, revealing a small box of polished rosewood that fit in the palm of her hand. “It’s lovely,” she said softly.

Benoit let out the breath in a grateful rush. “Open it.”

She raised the lid of the box and “Can’t Help Falling In Love” started playing. When Benoit had selected the box, he thought the tune was a perfect match for his feelings but now, he wondered if it was enough.

Marta looked up at him, her eyes wet. “Benoit Blanc, if you tell me you simply grabbed the first music box you saw with no regard for the tune, I swear to God…”

He grinned at her as he took her face in his hands and kissed her softly.

_Wise men say only fools rush in_

_But I can’t help falling in love with you_

_~_

_Take my hand, take my whole life too_

_Oh, for I can’t help falling in love with you_


End file.
